


Frill Seeker

by Rhanon_Brodie



Series: Stungun Lullabies [1]
Category: Arctic Monkeys, British Singers RPF, Indie Music RPF
Genre: Domestic Bliss, Lacy panties, M/M, Slash, Slight cross dressing, head canon, jamex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 16:55:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4187592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhanon_Brodie/pseuds/Rhanon_Brodie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I wanna be the showpiece of the nasty boy collection."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All recognizable elements herein are the property of their respective owners. The remaining content is mine.
> 
> So, this is an indirect result of a head canon meme on tumblr where it was asked what nicknames my OTP (Jamie / Alex) had for each other. On a whim, I stated that Jamie called Alex 'Duchess' and that it was a long story and then there were anons asking about Duchess Alex and somehow lacy panties became involved? IDEK anymore. Anyway. Here it is. Alex wears panties. It's fookin' sexy. Takes place following the recording of SIAS so Alex has that early SIAS hair that I'm strangely enamoured with. Jamie's already gotten rid of the beard (beard fic is coming, tho, because beard)

It’s become a common thing for Jamie to appear in LA from time to time, and Alex looks forward to each and every visit, impromptu or otherwise. It’s a bit of a struggle sharing his space, but he does it willingly, despite the fact that Jamie leaves his muddy boots laying in the front hall, or that he needs a new glass for every beverage he consumes during the day, the used glasses lining the edge of the sink like some sort of display of modern junk art. The worn t shirts flung on the back of the couch are wearing Alex’s patience thin. He thought he was relatively adaptable, but as much as he loves Jamie’s visits, it’s almost a relief when the blond finally gathers his things at the end of his stay and does that one giant load of laundry.

It’s _almost_ a relief. The place takes on a rather...melancholy feel when traces of Jamie disappear until the next time he shows up, but that doesn’t mean Alex wants to live in an unkempt environment.

“Here,” Alex says one afternoon, when he’s returned from shopping. “I got you this.” He drops a non-descript, white vinyl basket on the kitchen floor, and kicks it so that it skids into the back of Jamie’s leg as he stands at the fridge.

Jamie turns from where he’s pouring a glass of water, eyebrow raised in question, and then looks down to what has bumped into his leg. “Eh...a hamper?”

“Hardly,” Alex snarks with a roll of his eyes. “This does not have a lid, and therefore does not identify as a ‘hamper’. _This_ , James, is a laundry basket. I know, rare find, right? Now you can throw your shorts in there instead of all over me bedroom floor.”

The sarcasm in Alex’s tone isn’t lost on him, and while Jamie feels slightly embarrassed that his less-than-organized lifestyle has forced Alex to procure a separate laundry basket for him, he’s more ruffled by the posh indignance in which Alex crosses his arms and smugly smiles at Jamie.

“Thought you liked my habits,” Jamie replied with a wry smile. “Innit that what you said? That you liked me feelin’ like this space was mine, too?”

Alex sighs. “Jamie, I can’t even remember what color the carpet is in the bedroom.”

“It’s cream - remember when I spilled red wine on it?”

Alex huffs. “How could I forget?”

“Do you have a problem with me, Alex?”

The question makes the younger man pull back and stare at Jamie for a moment. “Wot?”

Jamie shrugs, and sets aside his untouched water, closing the fridge and leaning back against it. “It just seems that even though you say you like havin’ me here, I can’t help but feel I’m crampin’ your style. Maybe I should start gettin’ a hotel room when I visit?”

“Don't be obtuse, Jameh, I don’t want that. It’s joost…” He sighs and braces his hands on his hips, choosing his words before he speaks. “I were an only child, yeah? M’used to ‘avin’ me own way, an’ me own space, an’...m’not really good at sharin’.” He pouts for effect.

Jamie nods, hearing Alex’s argument and the validity therein, but at the same time not missing the petulant jut of his bottom lip when he’s done talking. Smirking, Jamie crosses the hardwood and lifts his pointer finger, jabbing at the plush curve of Alex’s mouth. “I understand,” Jamie murmurs. “Stop poutin’, Al.”

Alex smiles and flicks his hair from his eyes before wrapping his hand around Jamie’s, and pulling the offending finger between his lips. When he sucks, and nips the end with his teeth, Jamie gasps, blue eyes going wide. With a chuckle, Alex sucks a bit harder, hollowing his cheeks, and then releases Jamie with a wet pop. “Thought you liked it when I pout,” he says softly.

Jamie nods, but he’s quick to close the remaining distance between him and Alex. “I do,” he breathes. He focuses his gaze on Alex’s mouth as his fingers hook the belt loops on Alex’s jeans. Jamie is quick to kiss the smaller lad, swallowing any doubt or protest that might still be remaining. A few wet, hot seconds later, he pulls back and stars down at Alex, who looks dazedly up at him. “I’ll try to be more conscious of where I’m flinging me shorts,” Jamie promises with a whisper.

Alex gulps, and nods, mouth working on the phantom feel of Jamie’s mouth against his. “Yeah, all reyt,” he says. He’s letting his hips be swayed this way and that with the gentle tugging of Jamie’s fingers, but then Jamie’s moving away, and Alex’s protest gets lodged in his throat as Jamie bends down and scoops up the laundry basket.

He flashes a cheeky grin and then moves down the hall to the bedroom, calling back over his shoulder as he goes. “Wanna come help me with a load?”

Alex quickly follows him.

+

The late afternoon sun slips in between the slats of the blinds and throws a warm orange glow across the skin of Alex’s back. Presently, Jamie reclines on the twisted sheets of the bed, and Alex is draped over his chest, dozing softly, his breath tickling the soft, dark blond hair on Jamie’s chest. On a whim, Jamie picks up a curl of Alex’s hair and gently winds it around his fingers, turning it this way and that in the sunlight, and watching the strands change from dark brown, to russet, to gold in some places. Most of the gold, however, has been cut off; with the work he’d done on Submarine, and the subsequent recording of Suck It And See, Alex had redefined himself once more, and one day had found himself no longer in need of his longer desert look. Jamie likes the change, and he slides his hand back through the dark waves that are usually falling over Alex’s eyes. Periodically, he tightens his fist and takes pleasure in the feel of the thick tresses slipping between his fingers.

“What are ya doin’,” Alex asks, pressing his face further into Jamie’s chest. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy Jamie pawing through his hair, but Jamie seems rather quiet and contemplative at the moment.

“Joost...rememberin’, I suppose.” He gives Alex’s hair another playful tug and then his hand smoothes down over the nape of his neck, to his shoulders, to rest in the space between the blades.

“Awww, Cookeh, do you miss me pretty hair?” Alex chuckles, and leans up a bit to press a soft kiss to Jamie’s collarbone. Jamie shakes his head and waits as Alex presses up a bit more and hovers his mouth over Jamie’s. “I miss your beard,” Alex declares before his lips touch Jamie’s.

Jamie laughs into the kiss, and shakes his head when their mouths part. “Are you serious?”

Alex nods and settles once more on Jamie’s chest. “Mmhm,” he hums affirmatively. “Sort of defined us for a while, didn’t it? My hair, your beard...the desert feels like a dream.” He traces random patterns on Jamie’s skin, lost in thought.

“It does. I think it were, in a way. But look what we woke up to,” Jamie cautiously ventures. He knows not to press when it comes to emotions, but these times are rare, and if he can get Alex talking, it’s better for both of them.

Alex doesn’t say anything for a while, and Jamie thinks he must have fallen asleep again, until that rich voice comes back and wraps around Jamie’s senses. “You can...ehm...’ave the top drawer. In the dresser? For when you come, like...so you have a place for fings. It’s ‘ard livin’ out ‘a suitcase, we all know that. You’re not me guest here, you know. You’re...you’re here wiv me.” 

Alex fingers tighten slightly where they’ve been cupped around Jamie’s side since beginning his confession, and Jamie doesn’t miss the affection in the words, the voice, the touch. “Thanks,” he utters, smiling as he closes his eyes again. It’s not much, just a drawer, but it’s a start.

+

_“Hey, listen, don’t wake up, I’ve gotta run down to Sacramento to pick up me helmet, yeah? Just stay in bed an’ sleep, I’ll be back by lunch an’ we can spend the day together.”_

It’s the sound of the door closing that wakes Jamie up. Alex’s voice echoes in his ear; he’d been half asleep when Alex had whispered his goodbye, and sealed it off with a quick kiss to Jamie’s eyebrow. Alone in the wide bed, Jamie stretches, and sighs, glancing about the room. He has gotten a little out of hand with not keeping his belongings in check. He spies more than a few t shirts draped over a chair, and one balled up on the corner of Alex’s dresser. That reminds Jamie of their conversation late the day before.

He stands quickly and picks up his shirts, hanging them over his arm as he kicks the pile of clean laundry - socks and jeans - towards the dresser. The tallboy itself is wide, and has deep drawers, and will most likely accommodate everything Jamie’s brought with him to LA for the ten days he’s here - he packs rather light, knowing he can do laundry. Gingerly, he leans down and takes a whiff of the shirts he’s harvested. They’re not exactly fresh. He spots the laundry basket Alex picked up for him by the door leading to the en suite bathroom, and he pitches the worn cotton with cracked band logos into the basket, set on doing laundry after he’s made his morning coffee. 

Fitting his fingers around the stubby, brushed steel knobs of the dresser, Jamie gives a quick tug and sighs when he sees that though Alex has offered him the drawer, he’s forgotten to clean it out. It’s full of Alex’s own socks and boxers, and Jamie begins lifting them out and setting them on the bed. He’s not really paying attention, he knows what Alex’s clothes look like on the lad and on the floor, so when his fingers curl around something lacy, he stops, and drops the pile back into the bottom of the drawer.

Then he leans over and gently parts the numerous pairs of dark blue briefs and comes face to face with a decidedly frilly pair of _panties_.

_White panties._

_White, lacy, definitely not boy **panties.**_

Jamie snatches his hand back as if he’s just stuck it in a pit of vipers, and for a moment, he merely stares at the _white lacy definitely not boy **panties**_ in the bottom of Alex’s drawer.

_Maybe they’re Alexa’s? She’d visited Alex in LA a handful of times before they’d broken up rather amicably. Perhaps she’d forgotten them here._

_So why are they amongst the stuff Alex wears everyday? Half-hidden, but not really, folded like he’s folded all of his other things._ Jamie’s inner voice is poking veritable craters in his rationale, and he shifts on the carpet and looks to the doorway of the bedroom, half expecting Alex to be standing there watching him.

He’s not, though, and Jamie looks back to the drawer and pushes Alex’s _navy, cotton, definitely boy **briefs**_ aside and takes a closer look. Slowly, he unfolds them, arranging them at the bottom of the drawer, a stark contrast to the dark cherry wood. They’re bigger than a size zero, that’s for sure, so they can’t be Alexa’s.

_Did...is Alex seeing some bird when I’m not around?_

Jamie shakes his head again and silently scolds himself. No, that couldn’t be it, Alex is shit at lying, and he takes relationships way too seriously. If he wanted an out, he’d tell Jamie point blank.

_Then who do they belong to?_

Jamie bites his lip and gently reaches into the drawer, pulling the underwear out and holding them up. His cheeks suddenly bloom crimson as he eyes up the size.

_Could fit a lean pair of boyish hips if needed._

“What the fuck,” he mutters, dropping the panties back into the drawer. But curiosity gets the better of him, and he digs a bit deeper into Alex’s drawer, and comes up with two other pairs: one black satin, cut a littler longer at the hips, with lace panels connecting the front to the back, and a tiny black bow adorning the front. The other pair is red and Jamie suddenly has a flashback of a conversation he had with Alex while staring at a wall of boxer briefs in American Apparel. He’d leaned close and murmured, _“Get the red ones, yeah? Always liked you in red, you don’t wear it enough.”_ And, sure enough, Alex had bought red boxer briefs, because there they are, folded meticulously and stacked in the drawer along with three pairs of panties.

He takes a step back, and then another, until he feels the mattress hit the backs of his legs. Then he sits heavily, and looks down at his hands, which are still clutching the black panties. With his thumb and forefinger, he rubs the slick satin, and then goes over the texture of the lace, before finally plucking the little bow. He imagines how they must fit on Alex’s hips, how that little bow sits proudly beneath his navel, the trail of soft dark hair belying the femininity of the garment. He thinks about Alex’s bum hugged by the back of them, thinks about how it might feel to have all that satin and lace rubbing up against him while he’s naked, hard and aching for the lad, and he lets out a heavy breath. When he swallows, it’s thick, and he rubs a hand over his eyes, finding that he’s closed them, as images of Alex’s pelvic region clad in white lace, black satin, red confection, flood his mind. In his boxers, his cock throbs in reply.

When he opens his eyes, he’s not surprised to see the panties clutched in his fist, but he is rather aware of where he is, what he’s doing, what this all means - or possibly means, at any rate. He’s making assumptions, ones that he finds both terrifying and erotic, a heady combination. He’s just never thought about this before at all, didn’t consider the possibility. A million questions flood his mind - first and foremost, _are these Alex’s lacy things? And if so...did he buy them himself? How did he procure said items? Why? What is it about them that he likes so much? Does he wear them often?_ Was he planning on keeping this from Jamie? Did he want Jamie to find out? Was that why he left the drawer to Jamie? Maybe he forgot about the items, maybe his subconscious remembered. Should Jamie even be considering any of this? 

Jamie stands abruptly and shoves the underwear back into the drawer and slams it shut, before remembering that Alex is a _folder_ , and that the rest of the drawer’s contents are strewn about the bed. He fumbles with the slippery lace garments, folding them as best he can before gently placing them at the bottom of the drawer. Next, he piles Alex’s other undergarments on top and closes the drawer again before turning on his heel and heading towards the kitchen. He’ll wait until Alex is home to decide his course of action.

+

“Got close, didn’t you James?” Alex murmurs to himself as he surveys the bedroom. He sees Jamie’s shirts - the Black Sabbath one, the Pink Floyd one, the Led Zeppelin one, curled cozily in the bottom of the laundry basket, and then shakes his head fondly at the lumpy pile of socks and underwear he knows are clean. Surely Jamie wouldn’t have forgotten that Alex offered him a drawer. 

Jamie had been absent the house when Alex returned, but a quick recon told him that the guitarist wasn’t far. The Eagles of Death Metal are currently blaring from the Bose station in the garage, and that means that Jamie was most likely tinkering with his bike. The thought makes Alex smile - if there is one thing he enjoys more than Jamie’s hands all over him, it’s Jamie’s hands covered in grease all over him.

Crossing the room, Alex strips his current shirt off and carefully folds it, before sliding his jeans off as well. If Jamie’s in the garage, that means things can get messy, and Alex doesn’t fancy wearing clothes he pulled on clean that morning out into the grime.

He reaches for the top drawer to see if any other progress has been made by Jamie to sort his belongings into some sort of order, but his search is in vain. His own underwear is still stacked neatly in there, and he sighs, closing the drawer before suddenly freezing.

Slowly, he pulls the drawer back open and stares at the piles of underwear, not moving, not even breathing. Then, he pushes his boxers and briefs aside and stares at the three pairs of panties he’s tucked in there.

 _Someone’s been digging in me unders drawer, and I’ve got a hunch it were goldilocks._

_Of course he was digging, you gave him access to the drawer, you git, an’ you forgot about your knickers - or did you really forget? Hmm?_ Alex growls at that little voice in his brain, the one that’s probably right, and takes a moment to decide what to do. 

Alex looks at his folded underwear once more. It is definitely not folded the way he does it, but an attempt has been made to keep Jamie’s knowledge of Alex’s secret...well, secret. He doesn’t like having secrets between him and Jamie, but this one had shocked him and he can’t imagine what it might do to Jamie. How could he describe to Jamie what it felt like for him to be snugly encased in smooth satin, and pretty bits of lace and ribbon?

He can’t imagine sitting down with Jamie in the breakfast nook having a ‘talk’ that would smack of a birds-and-bees sort of thing, before setting the panties on the table. It reminds him of that time Jamie’s father had found a stack of Penthouse stashed in a shoe box at the bottom of Jamie’s closet, said magazines pilfered from Matthew’s older brother. He remembered Jamie’s face as he recounted the tale the next day, and Alex hadn’t been able hold in his laughter, and then had casually asked if Mr Cook had let Jamie keep the mags.

Alex also knows he can’t just casually bring it up in conversation either: “Jamie, I’m really happy you’ve picked up, an’ you’re welcome to do laundry, but please be careful wiv me lacy fings, yeah? They need to be hand washed.” No, that wouldn’t do at all.

_You could always show him._

Sometimes, he _really_ hated being an only child - too many conversations with himself.

Still...it’s not a completely horrible idea. Obviously it the idea of Alex wearing lingerie hadn’t scared Jamie to the point where he was walking out the door - made evident enough by the way his clothes are still strewn about.

Right, then. Alex digs through his drawers, picking out his most worn, grubby jeans, ones he doesn’t mind getting dirty in, and a snug black t shirt that will probably disintegrate upon its next washing. Finally, he chooses underwear for the occasion, and dresses as calmly as he can. There are two ways this can go: extremely positive, and everyone will get to come, or he’ll crash and burn with a terrible laugh filling in for his death knell.


	2. Chapter 2

The garage is hot, thick and stifling even with the large door raised a foot up off the concrete. In the dimly lit space, Jamie adjusts the worklight hanging from the handlebar of the Triumph he crouches next to. He huffs as he fits the wrench around the nut, and then wipes the sweat beading on his brow. The heat of the day isn’t the only thing that’s suffocating Jamie. He’s been out here for - he pauses to check his watch - forty-seven minutes, and the only thing he can concentrate on has very little to do with general motorcycle maintenance, and more to do with the fact that Alex has frilly, lacy panties in his drawer. He’s so caught up in the looping play-by-play of his hands smoothing over that satin as it clings to Alex’s slender hips that he doesn’t hear the door open, and instead feels his pulse thudding in time with the music on the Bose. He conjures all sorts of scenarios, but try as he might, he keeps coming up with white sheets, white duvet, candles, and slow, deep kisses. There’s nothing wrong with those images, either, but for some reason, it doesn’t seem quite right.

Something is off.

The door swings shut behind him with an audible _thud_ , and he turns, boots scraping over the dirt on the concrete floor. There stands Alex, leaning against the workbench with a rather...contemplative look on his face.

“Jesus, Alex, wear a bell,” Jamie exclaims, settling a hand on his chest. His eyes cut to the custom painted helmet in Alex’s hands. “Turned out good?”

Alex nods, eyes blatantly sliding down over the bulge of Jamie’s thighs beneath his jeans before slowly returning to Jamie’s gaze. “Wanna take a look?”

“Aye,” Jamie nods, standing and extending his hand, waiting for Alex to hand the helmet over.

Alex cocks his head and tilts his head down, watching Jamie from under the thick fringe of lashes surrounding his wide brown eyes. “C’mere then,” he murmurs.

It’s a trap that Alex sets with skill, and one that Jamie falls into every time. His pout, his tone of insolence, and that snobby little lift of his shoulder are the bait, and Jamie eagerly follows the trail. Crossing the distance between them, Jamie is certain to put as little distance between them as he can without actually touching. He does, however, lean past Alex to put the wrench down on the bench, and Jamie doesn’t miss the way Alex’s hips twist towards him and bump against him as he moves back. The crisp citrus scent of Alex’s cologne drifts up, making the warm air thick and fragrant. Jamie is sure to inhale audibly, and when he hears the breathless whimper Alex answers with, Jamie leans back, fingers slipping over Alex’s wrists, flexing against his grip, and then tugging the helmet from his grasp.

As he turns the silver-painted helmet over in his hands, Jamie’s eyes never leave Alex’s, and Alex doesn’t dare stray his gaze from Jamie’s. “S’nice,” Jamie grunts.

Alex nods and then places his hands behind him, palms against the wood, elbows bent, and leans back, shaking his hair from his face. “Yeah?” He sways his hips and arches an eyebrow at Jamie. “You like it?”

Jamie licks his lips and nods.

“You don’t fink it’s too...too much?”

“Nah,” Jamie answers smoothly, trying to guess Alex’s mindset. He’s throwing all the signals out to get fucked - Jamie’s been with Alex long enough to know all of the younger man’s tells, but the dark-eyed lad also seems hesitant, like he’s second guessing himself. He leans past Alex again and gently settles the helmet on counter. As he moves back, his hand cups Alex’s hip with weight and warmth, judging Alex’s reaction. “All reyt?”

Alex’s answering sigh is shuddering, his hands flitting lightly over Jamie’s arms, stroking the fine blond hairs. He nods quickly, and lifts his hands to the back of Jamie’s neck. There’s no more preamble, and he simply tugs the older man forward. “Kiss me,” he demands hotly, his fingers already sinking into the dark blonde waves of Jamie’s hair.

The taste of urgency is prevalent on Alex’s mouth, and the sense of desperation is measured in the way he holds Jamie’s to him, hands roaming down his neck, to his shoulders, and then his back. Alex’s hips tilt forward, and up, a sinuous roll that leaves little to Jamie’s imagination. Again, Jamie feels like Alex is covering for something, but he’s not quite sure. _He_ should be the one feeling agitated, having discovered Alex’s little secret less than an hour ago. With a sudden, sharp intake of breath through his nose, Jamie pulls back and gapes at Alex as he pants.

“James,” Alex says flatly, tongue curling at the corner of his mouth, “I didn’t tell you to stop.”

Jamie’s back a split second later, tongue and hands and hips as he crowds Alex against the workbench. The younger lad loves it, made evident by the way he tugs at Jamie’s hair and ruts against Jamie’s thigh. Really, he shouldn’t be so hesitant in light of Alex’s exuberance, but there’s a tremor in Alex’s touch, and a waver in every breath, and when Jamie’s eyes open briefly, he’s quite surprised to find Alex’s eyes are tightly shut. Alex has always been one to watch, his kisses made infinitely sexier by the way he keeps his eyes open, half-mast and always watching for Jamie’s reaction. But now he’s confident, and yet cagey, a dangerous combination.

“What’s wrong,” Alex mutters tightly as his mouth comes away by half an inch, his fingers rough as he grips Jamie’s hair once more.

“Nowt,” Jamie gulps, his mouth landing in a sloppy, wet kiss on Alex’s jaw.

“Summat’s wrong, tell me,” Alex prods, holding Jamie back so he can look in his eyes.

Jamie shakes his head once and looks down, watching as his fingers flit and furl along the waistband of Alex’s jeans. “I...you’re shaking,” Jamie mutters, blinking back up at Alex as he works his fingers down over the worn fly of Alex’s jeans.

“Mmm, no, m’fine,” Alex insists, eyelashes fluttering with every pass of Jamie’s fingers. “I’m fookin’ turned _on_ , Jamie, been thinkin’ on you all mornin’.”

Jamie smiles fondly. There’s the confident lad he’s used to in these situations. Shy as Alex might be in public, when he’s in private - very private, one on one - he knows exactly what he wants and how to voice his demands. “You’re on edge,” Jamie points out. It’s an unnecessary observation, but Alex’s hips still wiggle, and he still bites his lip and nods quickly.  


On the next pass of Jamie’s fingers, this time tracing the button fly, Alex stiffens, and moans, breathless and shaking once more. Alex wasn’t kidding, he _is_ turned on, the hard, thick length of him bulging against the denim. “Can I do somethin’ t’help?” Jamie softly asks, sucking Alex’s bottom lip until it’s plump between his teeth. 

Two hands now, two broad, hot-skinned hands, palm Alex, sweeping down either side of his erection, and then back up, smoothing deep circles out onto his thighs and hips, and Alex is a quivering mess, panting and sighing for Jamie in between kisses.

It spurs Jamie on, and he takes a hold of Alex by the hair as his other hand snares the top button of Alex’s jeans and tugs it open. The rest of the button fly parts easily, and just as Jamie’s hand works its way into Alex’s jeans, Alex’s breath hitches, and he makes a small noise in the back of his throat.

Jamie freezes as Alex’s body stiffens. “Al?” He asks softly, moving so he can look the other boy in the eyes, but Alex has shut him out again. “What is it?” Jamie’s hand slips further into Alex’s pants, and he’s keenly aware of the slippery fabric he’s encountered. He pauses, but doesn’t move his hand away. A heartbeat later, his fingers flex on the satin covered cock, and he tightens his fingers in Alex’s hair until Alex moans. “Wanna show me summat, baby?”

Alex manages to nod, despite Jamie’s hold, and then he spreads his thighs a little further apart.

“Let’s see what you got,” Jamie mutters, taking up the sides of Alex’s fly and tugging the snug denim down over Alex’s hips. As white satin comes into view, Jamie’s heart nearly bursts, and his cock throbs in time with each rapid beat. There is a large streak of grease down the front, marring the garment. It doesn’t do anything except somehow make Jamie’s cock harder, and he emits a tiny moan as he tilts his head one way, and then the other, watching as his grime-covered hand slips and slides over the satin.

It’s better than any of the images he’d been conjuring all morning, and up until that moment he wasn’t sure how he’d react to Alex wearing a pair of white, lacy panties. But there’s something in the delicacy among the dirt of the garage, in the way Alex fits both masculine and feminine aspects of the human soul, that makes Jamie so much more aroused, and so much more willing to explore, than anything else the two of them have ever encountered up until this moment.

Alex presses his hips into Jamie’s touch, his hands returning to the bench behind him as he shifts and twists and effectively makes Jamie touch him in all the places he needs it. It’s not quite enough, though, and his skin feels tight, and hot, as Jamie’s mouth scrapes over his Adam’s apple and descends on his neck, teeth nipping at his collarbone. The hand in his hair leaves off for the hem of his shirt; his cock is ignored at the same time, and Jamie shoves the black t shirt up and off of Alex’s torso before tugging it over the head. 

It makes all that dark hair fluff out wildly, and Alex pants with a dazed expression as he watches Jamie descend down his chest with a series of wet, sucking kisses. There’s a sharp, frantic feeling sailing through Alex’s veins, and he whimpers behind clenched teeth as Jamie sucks the patch of skin below a nipple, pulling it into his mouth, tugging with his teeth until the skin is marred, blotchy and dark purple. Jamie’s fingertips press into Alex’s hipbones, pinning him more securely to the bench as his mouth works lower on Alex’s torso, tongue flashing wetly as he goes. With a chuckle, Jamie drops to his knees and circles Alex’s navel, swiping his tongue around the little indentation, before biting the crease of his hip and nuzzling into the dark hair below his navel.

The tiny bow on the front of the panties scrapes Jamie’s bottom lip, and he tugs the frilly edge of the panties away from Alex’s scorching skin to slip his tongue beneath, groaning at the salt of his sweat and kissing him wetly. The rise of his whiskers snags the satin front of Alex’s panties as Jamie’s mouth moves lower, huffing a blast of hot, wet breath through the fabric to sear Alex’s skin. It does the trick, and those narrow hips buck, and Alex swears with a quivering voice, hissing as he looks down and meets Jamie’s delighted gaze.

“You like ‘em?” Alex asks softly, petting Jamie’s hair and cupping his jaw with a firm hand.

“You’re gorgeous,” Jamie breathes with stark honesty, before his focus drops to the underwear in question. His touch turns gentle, smoothing over the fabric and teasing the hard flesh beneath.

“Yeah?” Alex presses, still a mite uncertain.

“Mmm hmm,” Jamie nods, his lips ghosting over the fabric. “An’ sexy, Al, terribly sexy. Me heart is poundin’.” He sits back on his heels and scoops the denim down Alex’s thighs, and then slides his palms back up over lean muscle. The edges of the leg holes are hooked by Jamie’s thumbs, and the blond sends them stroking over the thin skin at the creases of Alex’s thighs. “What else you got, baby?”

After the question the soft press of Jamie’s lips against the bulge of his cock makes Alex chuckle around a groan, and he smiles down at Jamie as he brushes the hair back from his blue eyes. “Cookeh wants a treat, eh? Been a good boy?”

“Nooo,” Jamie sings, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’d say I’ve been snoopin’ in your drawers, lookin’ for a place to land, an’ look where it got me.” He glances at Alex’s cock, starkly outlined in the satin stretching over it. Humming, Jamie slides his palm over the ridge of the shaft, and then tugs the waistband down so that the sensitive tip peeks out, shiny with anticipation, while that little white bow adorns the frenulum.

Alex huffs and nods, hands still stroking Jamie’s hair, his jaw, his chin, fingers flitting over that smart mouth. Jamie may be a top in all situations, but that doesn’t mean he won’t take Alex’s cock in his mouth. “Yeah, look where you ended up,” Alex whispers in a nasty tone. “On your knees, on a dirty floor, beggin’ to suck.”

Jamie winks. “You won’t make me beg. Hmm?” His fingers trace that sensitive ridge of flesh on the underside of Alex’s cock head, and the younger man whimpers, and digs his fingers into Jamie’s shoulder to keep his balance. Jamie smiles softly, sucks at his thumb, and presses that spot on Alex’s dick once more. Alex squeals, and his nostrils flare. “Nah,” Jamie whispers. “I won’t be the one beggin’, Al.” Jamie snags the panties at the sides and tugs them down until Alex’s cock is unencumbered. Taking a hold of it firmly, Jamie flicks his tongue against the head before smiling up at Alex. “Hold still.”

 _God, he’s good at this_. The thought loops over and over in Alex’s hormone-riddled mind as he watches Jamie’s mouth descend, feels it suck as he rolls his tongue along veins and grooves. When Jamie pulls back, Alex heaves a hoarse cry at the shiny state of his cock, and nods with another desperate whimper when Jamie asks if he wants more. The blond returns to his task, fingers twisting in the lace and satin still clinging at Alex’s hips, no doubt snaring the delicate fabric with bitten nails, marring it with more grease and grime. It makes Alex’s hips buck once more, and he ignores the way the wooden edge of the bench digs into the upper swell of his ass as his hands leave off and sink into Jamie’s hair.

This is one of Jamie’s favourite ways to have Alex. The fact that he’s on his knees doesn’t deter him, it just solidifies the fact that even when he’s on his knees, he’s in charge. The younger lad’s desperation is enough to ratchet Jamie’s building arousal to sky-high levels, and he sucks, humming at the way he’s slowly unraveling Alex.

And Alex is now whining, his sinewy hips winding with every flicker of arousal, hands scrabbling down to snare the back of Jamie’s shirt and tug at the soft, gray fabric. Taking a hint, Jamie eases of Alex’s cock with a teasing suck to the tip, and sits back, helping Alex remove the shirt and add it to the pile of laundry now accumulating on the floor. The blond is voracious when he swallows Alex wholly, wet, hard, hot, and Alex hisses, scratching at Jamie’s skin, trying to get deeper into Jamie’s welcoming mouth. Though his feet are trapped by the way his jeans have bunched at his boots, Alex moves his legs further apart as he feels Jamie’s arm press between his thighs. One broad, warm palm connects with his asscheeks and pulls Alex’s pelvis forward, making the younger lad crash to his elbows on the workbench as Jamie sucks faster, and harder.

“Ah, fuck, Cookeh,” Alex mutters, his voice trailing to a whisper.

“What’s that, Al?” Jamie replies when he’s moved back, his hand taking over for his mouth.

Alex mumbles something, his head tilted back, eyes closed, teeth gnawing at his lip as he succumbs to the quick, tight strokes Jamie is administering.

“I didn’t hear that, Alex,” Jamie hums. “Say it again?”

“Please,” Alex whispers. “Oh, god, please Jameh, _please_.”

“Want to come?” Jamie asks softly, pressing a hot kiss to the tip of Alex’s cock.

“Fuck, yes,” Alex nods.

“Want me to fuck you? Wanna come while I fuck you, Al?”

“Uh huh,” Alex nods once more, his answer dazed, but desperate. “Yes, please, Cookeh.”

“Take your boots off,” Jamie instructs, standing once more, hand already on his belt.

Alex scrambles to obey, legs rubbery from Jamie’s attention, heart beating rapidly. Jamie’s boot comes down on the denim still tangled at Alex’s feet, and he shoves Alex back onto the workbench, lifting him at the hips, effectively removing the jeans and kicking them to the pile of t shirts. Alex watches with baited breath as Jamie smiles up at him, fingers curling into the white lace of his panties, slowly tugging them down his long, lean thighs, removing one foot, and then the other. When the satin is clutched in Jamie’s hand, his other falls to his jeans, popping the top snap, tugging the zipper down, and shoving both his pants and his boxers down past his hips. Alex’s mouth hangs open as he sees the state that Jamie is in: hard, flushed, leaking, proud. He moans and takes hold of his own cock, stroking as he stares at Jamie’s length.

“Yeah, lookit tha’, James, tha’ all for me? Gets you so fookin’ ‘ard having me dick in your mouf.”

Jamie glances up from where he’s contemplating Alex’s arse and narrows his gaze. “You joost love to fookin’ chat, don’t you? That smart mouf o’yours is gonna land you in trouble, Al.”

Alex licks his lips and tilts his chin at Jamie in challenge. “Just fook me, Jameh. There’s lube in me pocket,” he informs.

Jamie leaves those legs dangling for a moment, diving for Alex’s jeans and finding the lube in the hip pocket. “You came out here lookin’ to get fooked, dint ya?” Jamie breathes, returning to his spot between Alex’s thighs, palming the muscles and circling the hips once more.

“I saw an opportunity,” Alex laughs. His mirth dies when Jamie presses his hips into Alex’s pelvis, and their cocks rub together. “Ah, fook, James, that’s good,” he breathes, head tilting back once more.

“How about you shut up, Al?” Jamie smirks, tearing open the small foil envelope of lube and squirting it down between Alex’s ass cheeks.

“How about you make me?” Alex challenges, eyes blazing as he looks back to Jamie once more.

Jamie smiles wryly at his smart-mouthed lover and makes his move.

Before Alex knows it, he’s got a mouthful of white lace and satin, and Jamie’s cock is filling him, swift and scorching. The sensation of being breached so quickly makes Alex cry out sharply, the sound muffled by the satin between his teeth, and he glares at Jamie, his hand moving to remove the makeshift gag.

“Leave it,” Jamie growls, snaring Alex’s hands and holding them at the wrists with one of his own. His free hand pulls Alex’s lower body down to meet a sharp, upward thrust, and the muted cry that wells in Alex’s throat is beautiful. He shushes Alex, his hand moving to the lad’s lower back to take some of the weight from pressing into the sharp edge of the workbench. 

“Such a bit o’fancy, aren’t you, baby?” Jamie murmurs. His hips have already found a steady pound that makes Alex’s legs tense and shake. “Comin’ out here into all this dirt, wearing your frilly knickers. You _want_ to get dirty, don’t you?”

Alex nods, his eyes dazed as he stares at Jamie. His mouth is swollen, sinfully stretched around satin, and he pants in time with Jamie’s thrusts.

“Like a duchess an’ a stable boy, eh?” Jamie continues, wincing at the sudden flex of Alex’s ass, groaning at the tight, slick heat he’s working himself into.

There’s another warbled response, something that sounds close to, _“God, yes, Jamie, yes, fuck me, get me dirty,”_ and it spurs Jamie’s hips into action.

Alex is a mess of long limbs and garbled moans, his hips bouncing to meet Jamie’s thrusts. The sweat drips from Jamie’s brow to land on Alex’s thighs, and it rolls down Jamie’s spine. Even Alex is slicked up, and Jamie’s hands slip on his hips, trying to keep his grip with one hand, and stroke Alex’s cock with his other. A quick squeeze and press of Jamie’s thumb to the underside makes Alex howl, choked behind the panties crammed into his mouth, and it’s not long before his hands grapple onto Jamie’s shoulders so he can fuck himself on Jamie’s burgeoning erection.

The delicate fabric of the panties is clutched relentlessly between his teeth, and every pound of Jamie’s hips brings the thick tip of his dick in direct contact with Alex’s prostate. The space between his hips burns with sharp pulses of arousal, and his stomach clenches as Jamie huffs, and then groans tightly. The fingers on Alex’s hip dig in harder, and the hand fisting his cock is a blur. The pleasure is boiling in Alex’s balls, and he’s quite certain that Jamie isn’t far off - his cheeks are flushed, and his nostrils are flared as he pushes up on his toes, trying to get deeper still.

Alex can’t help the soft cry that escapes him every time Jamie’s hips crash into the underside of his thighs, and it’s not long before he’s letting his bones rattle, as the tools and trays of parts laid on the bench begin to shake in time with each brutal thrust. Alex lets out a long, thick groan, and then stares into Jamie’s eyes, hoping he’s getting his message across.

“Yeah, that’s good, baby, that’s so good, fookin’ come, yeah?” Jamie’s voice is barely audible, and only their laboured breathing, and the rattle of the workbench can be heard in the steamy garage. Alex’s body grasps at him, and the frantic need to finish is evident in the liquid warmth of his dark eyes. Jamie digs his hips again, settling deep inside the lithe body before him, and he gasps at the warmth and the snugness, always such a welcome combination. He’s not going to last long, and he begins to churn his hips up, and forward, grinding away at what’s left of Alex, hoping the lad will finish before him.

The younger lad nods frantically, eyes drifting shut as he moans around the lace. His mouth moves around the words he’s repeating in his head: _Yes, Jameh, god, **yes** , Jamie, I’m gonna come. I’m gonna come for you_. His jaw is beginning to ache in that familiar way when he’s had Jamie’s cock in his mouth to the root, unable to speak, barely able to breathe, only able to feel what Jamie’s doing to him, inside and out. And then suddenly, gloriously, the lace and satin is tugged from his mouth, and it takes him a moment to suck in a breath before he’s tasting Jamie’s tongue and lips, and feeling the force of Jamie’s thrusts as the blond bucks again, and again, and again.

Alex’s voice quivers as he announces his approaching orgasm, thighs snaking around Jamie’s waist, knees hugging his ribs, hands tugging at his face, his neck, his shoulders, anything to get him closer, to get him deeper, to get him ingrained.

“That’s it, come for me, Duchess. All over. God, you’re beautiful. Let me have it.”

The dark-eyed lad is helpless, and like every other time before, his body obeys Jamie’s command without having to think about it. He lets go, the freeing sensation of Jamie’s demand giving him a rush in his veins that almost matches the hot intensity of Jamie swiftly coming in his ass.

It takes him a moment to come back down, for the ringing in his ears to subside, and for his hands to detach from where they’re gripping Jamie’s shoulders like hooks. With a groan, he falls back against the bench, humming as Jamie gives his hips another soft arch, hands stroking the outside of his thighs before he turns his face and places a kiss on the inside of Alex’s knee.

A second later, the bench shakes again, but this time with Alex’s laughter. It’s light, and lofty, and Jamie joins in, the endorphins rushing their veins and making everything rosy. 

“Wot,” Jamie murmurs, slipping from Alex’s body.

“Did you...call me ‘Duchess’?” Alex asks between breaths.

“It were rather fitting,” Jamie smiles, twirling Alex’s panties around his index finger.

Alex merely hums, his palms sliding down over his ribs, fingers drifting through the mess of his spending on his lower abdomen. “Need a cigarette,” he announces a few moments later. He lets Jamie pull him up to sitting, and watches as Jamie hikes up his jeans, and moves to search for Alex’s. His panties are now stuffed into Jamie’s back pocket, a fitting favor for a white knight.

“Fink we’ll have to do another load,” Alex mutters after he’s puffing away on the cigarette Jamie lit for him. He nods to the pile of discarded clothes on the dusty floor of the garage.

Cocking an eyebrow, Jamie smirks. “That stuff require hand washing?”

Alex preens, shaking his damp curls from his forehead, managing to look prim and proper as he crosses one leg over his knee, naked as the day he was born. “I’ll make a washer woman outta you yet, stable boy.”

Jamie makes a face of mock apology, and grasps Alex’s knee, pulling it and uncrossing the long legs before stepping between them. “By all means, Duchess.” He plucks the cigarette from Alex’s fingers and tucks it into the corner of his mouth as his hands return to Alex’s thighs. “Show me exactly how you like your delicates handled.”


End file.
